


The One I've Been Looking For

by muggle95



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Prompt Fic, Yes this has been renamed don't get confused, i have done way more worldbuilding than i can fit into the narration holy cow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muggle95/pseuds/muggle95
Summary: Previously titled "Colors"After all the years of being told that soulmates were no more real than magic, Harry really wasn't expecting to find his soulmate today... or ever. And which of that group of people is actually his soulmate anyway? Maybe he should befriend all of them? What does it even mean to be soulmates with someone you've hardly even talked to?(Soulmate au where you don't see colors until you've seen your soulmate)for @the-nintendo-nerd on tumblrContent warning for memories of homophobic remarks (which are rejected in the present) - no more than two lines in the entire piece





	1. King's Cross

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to do a "minific giveaway" and promised at least 200 words, but once I started this I couldn't stop, so have a full-length first-chapter of a potentially-expanded fic instead. ~~I thought it could be a one-shot? Yeah yeah, laugh it up.~~
> 
> The prompt was for this particular soulmate au with Harry and Ginny which... didn't actually involve them interacting much, because Harry almost immediately boards the Hogwarts express and then doesn't see Ginny again for several months. I'm very likely to continue it, either in Ginny's perspective, or skipping ahead to when they finally interact in person, but I don't know exactly how far I'm going to go with this AU.
> 
> Anything that's not mentioned or skipped over happens basically the same way it did in book canon.
> 
> (I said I'd change the title eventually. When I initially posted I was very tired and had used up all my word-generating skills on the actual chapter)
> 
> Chapter 1 beta'ed but not brit-picked

Harry was getting tired of wandering King's Cross station alone, looking for a platform that couldn't exist. He was just wondering if he should pull out his wand and tap on the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 when a new voice cut through the crowd, catching his attention.

“–Packed with muggles of course –”

Harry spun around, and caught sight of a small group of people, all clearly talking together. A plump woman had been the one talking, but there were four boys pushing trolleys with their own trunks, and a girl holding the woman’s hand. The tallest boy’s trunk had a cage with an owl on it – mottled and medium-bright, not the beautiful white that Hedwig was, but still definitely an owl.

While he was mentally categorizing the group, his vision swam and suddenly he was seeing _differently_. Harry blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes under his glasses, and the new sensation didn’t change. This must be color, Harry realized, which meant his soulmate was in the group. The Dursleys had denied the existence of soulmates as adamantly as they had denied the existence of magic, so perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that the “elitist lie about ‘colors’ – is bright and dark not good enough for them, they have to make up imaginary sensations to boast about?” was true as well.

He was so disoriented by the sudden appearance of color that he almost forgot to follow them. Soulmate or no, he still needed to know how to get to platform 9¾ and they were likely to know since they were complaining about muggles.

Their hair was all the same color as each other and rather a different color than most people around him in the station. Fortunately, whatever the color was, it was particularly eye-catching so even when a rush of people cut him off from the strangers, he found them again quickly when the cross traffic passed.

Taking advantage of the lull, Harry swallowed his nerves and pushed his trolley up to the group, who was now gathered around one of the pillars denoting the border between platforms 9 and 10 and glancing periodically across at something. He wondered which of them might be his soulmate. A couple of girls in primary school had found each other as soulmates early on, and while the Dursleys had made a huge fuss about “homos pushing their ideas on children” and of course about soulmates and colors as a concept at all, the teacher had later that week compassionately reminded the children that soulmates were sacred bonds, and that they should be cherished regardless of gender or social expectations. Harry wasn’t sure he understood the appeal of soulmates or romance yet, but he was kind of hoping his soulmate would be one of the boys just to spite the Dursleys and their lies.

“Now, who remembers what platform we’re looking for?” the woman prompted.

“Nine and three-quarters,” the girl piped up. “Mum, can’t _I_ go…”

“You’re not old enough, Ginny,” the woman interrupted. “Alright then Percy, you first.”

The boy with the owl nodded and stepped away from the group, marching toward… something. Harry tried to watch, but another rush of people and backpacks obscured his vision before Percy’s destination was obvious. By the time they cleared, Percy was nowhere to be seen.

After two more boys, seemingly twins, not just by appearance but also by how they’d teased their mother about mixing them up, had also vanished, Harry was still no closer to understanding how they were getting to the platform.

Harry stepped forward timidly to draw their attention. “Excuse me,” he asked softly

Ginny’s gasp interrupted Harry, who was about to repeat his interjection louder.

The woman glanced down at Ginny, who had hidden herself behind her mother’s legs, peering out occasionally at Harry and then ducking back again when he glanced her way. The woman then followed Ginny’s gaze to Harry. “Hello dear, can I help you?” the woman asked kindly.

“Er, yeah, I was wondering. Do you know how to get...” Harry trailed off, as something in a different bright color flashed in his peripheral vision – clearly he was still slightly distracted by the presence of color.

“Onto the platform?” the woman asked helpfully, before sending another concerned glance at her daughter. Harry nodded. “First time at Hogwarts, dear? It’s Ron’s first time too,” she said, indicating the remaining boy. Ron was gangly and had a smattering of freckles across his face, and offered Harry a friendly smile of his own. ”Well, it’s perfectly easy. You’ve just got to walk straight at that barrier ahead,” she indicated the next pillar up, the nearest in the direction that the older boys had disappeared. “You can close your eyes if it helps, and it’s best to do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Why don’t you go next?”

Harry nodded, feeling too choked with nerves to answer aloud, and turned his own trolley toward the barrier. He took a deep breath and started walking directly at it. He found himself moving more and more briskly. When he was about four paces away from the barrier, he closed his eyes, bracing for the impact instinct said was inevitable, and kept moving. Six steps later, he cracked his eyes open and realized he was on a platform he hadn’t found by merely walking around, with no barrier to be seen. He opened his eyes fully and slowed to a stop. He glanced over his shoulder to see a brick wall behind him instead, the same texture and color as the pillar he had run towards. Another trolley burst through behind him, with Ron pushing it.

Harry grinned. Magic sure could do some amazing things. He turned to face the train again. Most of it was the same black he’d always seen, but there were glossy parts in another bright color that Harry couldn’t yet put a name to. Part of the Dursleys’ resistance to the idea of soulmates was by shredding the color-identification books he and Dudley had come home with their first year of public school. Harry hoped wizards had some equivalent that he could borrow from someone. Colors were so vibrant and interesting that he wanted to be able to identify them for himself.

The train’s whistle blew a warning, and Harry glanced up to see that the clock on the wall said it was only five minutes until eleven, so he needed to get onto the train. The twins from before helped Harry get his trunk on the train and into an empty compartment. When they spotted his scar, they tried to ask about it, but Harry only got as far as confirming that yes, he was Harry Potter, before their mother called them outside again.

As Harry was getting settled in his seat, he realized he hadn’t asked their names or if either of them could see color. Well, with bright hair like theirs, he was sure to find them again, and he would have more chances.

Asking about someone’s color status wasn’t exactly taboo, but it _was_ deeply personal, so he hadn’t exactly been prepared to ask them in public on first meeting, especially since his soulmate wouldn’t be more than one person, and he wasn’t quite sure who it was out of the five kids he’d initially seen.

Out the open window, he heard Fred and George telling their family that they’d met him, interrupted briefly by their mother asking “Ginny, dear, what _is_ the matter?” but getting no verbal reply, before she asked the twins how they knew it was him, and scolded them not to be overbearing.

The train whistled its one-minute warning, and the conversation outside faded as the boys hurried onto the train. Moments later, the compartment door slid open and Ron poked his head into Harry’s compartment. “Mind if I sit here? Everything else is full,” he explained, with a sheepish smile.

“Go ahead,” Harry agreed, with a nod and a small smile of his own, before he returned to staring out the window, watching the rush of colors in the witches and wizards’ outfits on the platform, and watching them all recede as the train started to move. He caught Ginny’s eyes briefly, as she chased the train and she looked away abruptly, cheeks flaming into brightness, before she stumbled and fell behind the train. That color was red, right? Or pink? He knew blushing was supposed to be one of those colors from stories his teachers had read to the class over the years. Because blood was red, right? Except when it was blue, that was a science fact. But he was sure blushing wasn’t blue. He really needed to get a color-identification book to study.

Fred and George stopped in just long enough to introduce themselves properly, and to point out Ron as their brother, before leaving again.

Ron, like the twins, was impressed to be meeting Harry Potter, and asked to see Harry’s scar, but eventually they settled down into normal, getting-to-know-you conversation. At least, Harry assumed it was normal. Dudley had been chasing off any of Harry’s potential friends for years, so he wasn’t exactly familiar with the process. After the cart came through, they shared snacks, and Harry gratefully let Ron explain all the unfamiliar candies and treats.

A few other people stopped in, looking for a toad. First was a boy named Neville, who owned the toad, and a few minutes later, a girl named Hermione, who claimed she’d already read several of the textbooks, and watched with interest, then disdain as Ron tried a rhyming spell Fred had given him, which apparently should have made his pet rat have chinchilla-soft fur instead of its normal shaggy coat. She loftily proclaimed that maybe he should try a _good_ spell, or a simpler one, and demonstrated by genuinely fixing Harry’s taped-up glasses.

Ron scowled at the compartment door after she left for much longer than Harry thought was warranted, eventually complaining “she’s a bit bossy, don’t you think?”

Harry mentally compared Hermione to Aunt Petunia, whom he’d always thought of as bossy, and shrugged instead of answering. They really didn’t compare. Aunt Petunia was much more insufferable. Ron kept scowling at the door.

A while later, a vaguely familiar sneering face slid open the compartment door. “They’re saying Harry Potter’s in this compartment. It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked, looking directly at Harry. Harry took a moment longer than necessary before he realized that this was the same boy he’d met in Madam Malkin’s who had proclaimed Slytherin the best house, and Hufflepuff the worst. Seeing in color was a little weird, because he noticed the color of the boy’s pale hair before the angular shadow his nose cast on his cheek this time. Harry nodded warily, eyeing the large, hulking boys who had flanked the familiar one. The sneering boy introduced Crabbe and Goyle before introducing himself as Draco Malfoy.

Ron coughed, possibly hiding a laugh, and drew Malfoy’s attention. “Think my name’s funny do you? No need to ask yours. My father told me all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” He turned back to Harry as Ron’s ears and face and neck lit up in the color that was probably red. Except if his hair was red, maybe his face wasn’t red. Hmm.

“You’ll quickly find that _some_ wizarding families are better than others, Potter,” Malfoy continued. “You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” Harry answered coldly. Even though he’d only known Ron for a few hours, he could tell Ron was itching to say something scathing in response, and Harry was hoping whatever it was wouldn’t escalate the situation.

It did nearly end in a fight, but Ron’s pet rat scared Goyle off, and the visiting trio fled.

Hermione came in again as Malfoy and his cronies fled, scolded them for fighting, and reminded them to get changed into their robes.

When she had left again, Ron turned to Harry. “Do you think Malfoy can actually see color? Who would match with a prick like him?” he asked, baffled.

Harry snorted in agreement. “Beats me,” he responded. “Hey, this might be a weird question, but do wizards give all their kids a color-identification book like the muggles do?”

Ron gave Harry a considering look. “Not a book, really. It’s a lens that you can hold over something and it’ll tell you what color the thing is. Not much use before you’ve met your soulmate, but it’s interesting for sure.” He rummaged in his trunk and came up with his robes and something that seemed like a large magnifying glass with a brass handle, except the lens was flatter.

“Can I see that?” Harry asked, and Ron shrugged and handed it over. Harry looked around at the whole compartment, reading the words that appeared over each object. The upholstery on the seats was maroon. The pattern on the floor was green with yellow. His trunk was shades of brown. As expected, his robes were black. His socks and trainers were different shades of gray, though perhaps he should have expected that, as they didn’t look much different to him than they had when he’d put them on that morning. Scabbers was brown with gray patches and yellow eyes. Ron’s hair was orange. The grass outside was mostly identified as yellow even though Harry thought grass was supposed to be green. One of his textbooks had a cover that was the same bright color as he’d noticed on the train, which turned out to be red.

Harry handed the lens back, and quickly turned to the corner of the compartment to change into his own robes. When he turned around again, Ron was also peering around at everything through the lens.

“Sorry if this is too personal, but can you see colors?” Harry asked, not sure if he was hoping Ron was his soulmate or not.

Ron blinked at him, ears flushing again – and Harry was starting to understand why that color had the same name as the brighter “red” of his textbook cover – and then scowled. “Yeah,” Ron sighed, sounding irritated. “Someone I met on the train. You?”

Harry blinked at that incongruous response. Weren’t most people excited to meet their soulmates? And he and Ron had seen each other in the station, even though they’d first met on the train. Could they be soulmates? Why would Ron be disappointed about that? He almost forgot to answer, until Ron opened his mouth to say something else. “Erm. Yeah, I guess?” Harry answered. “But I’m not quite sure who it was.”

"Crowdbound?" Ron asked with a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said seriously. “I know everyone says soulmates are supposed to be your romantic life partner, but sometimes they’re just destined to be your best friend.” He said this with absolute certainty, but his ears kept getting redder and redder in a way that told Harry he ought not ask why Ron was so sure. “I mean, it’s probably scary to think you may never recognize them for who they are, but…

“I mean, it was you or one of your siblings,” Harry admitted impulsively, not quite sure if he was interrupting or if Ron had meant to trail off there. “I just kind of saw you all at once, and I’m not really sure who it was.”

“Hell, I wish you were my soulmate,” Ron grumbled. “You’d be better I think. Huh, who was there this morning?” he mused aloud. “Well, Percy met his match his first year. I don’t know if they’re dating yet, but Mum likes Penny okay. You’re probably lucky it’s not him, he’s rather stuck up. And Fred and George, er, both know theirs. And you’re not _my_ soulmate unfortunately. So if it’s one of us it’s probably Ginny. My little sister. She’s alright, I guess, though she rarely shuts up about anything. She _was_ weirdly quiet today, I suppose that was once we met you?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. We didn’t really interact.”

Ron chuckled. “Well, either we’ll make plans for you to meet everyone over Christmas, or you’ll meet her next year when she comes to Hogwarts. Then you can see for yourself what she’s like on a normal day,” he said as the train started to come to a halt.

Harry only hesitated a second, but then the brakes were screeching too loudly for him to reply. On the other hand, he wasn’t quite sure what he would have said. It was weird to think that someone he’d never met was his soulmate. Was she supposed to be special to him? He felt nothing yet: a slight optimism about the idea of having a soulmate and proving the Dursleys wrong, but nothing for or against Ginny Weasley. He wondered how he ought to feel about her.

Harry easily found Hagrid, who was shouting for the first years, and clambered with his fellows into the small boats that took them across the lake. When they got there, they found themselves waiting in a small chamber with large, double doors behind them, and a small but ornate door ahead. Indistinct chatter could be heard beyond that door.

Soon enough, a woman appeared, introducing herself as Professor McGonagall, and gave them instructions. She would call them, one at a time, through the door to be sorted into their houses. She would place the Sorting Hat upon their heads and it would tell them where to go. Remaining students would be able to hear the results well enough through the door, but they were not to come through any more than one-at-a-time. It wasn’t an unusual policy, but there was some unhappy muttering about not being able to see friends get sorted. Ron switched from fretting about the troll Fred had warned him about, to worrying what his parents would think if he wasn’t in Gryffindor. Harry didn’t respond. He had never known how not to disappoint his guardians, and he didn’t really have parents to disappoint.

Sure enough, they could hear the Sorting Hat’s song clearly in the entry chamber. Harry wondered what it looked like, and whether it was really a hat, or some other magical object that was just placed upon heads and called a hat. He waited, getting increasingly nervous, as more of his fellow first-years were called through the door and his own turn approached. He wondered if there was a house for students who just felt a bit queasy.

When “Granger, Hermione” was called through the door, Ron tangibly relaxed, though he scowled heavily when she got sorted into Gryffindor, his preferred house. Harry felt like he might be missing something. Hermione had been a little brusque, but not that bad, he thought. Maybe she just reminded Ron of someone worse? Like the way Crabbe and Goyle had both kind of reminded him of Dudley except they were lacking the cunning gleam that was usually in Dudley’s eyes. They were similar enough to him that he wanted to avoid them.

When Harry’s name was called, he grinned nervously at Ron’s whispered, “good luck!” and stepped through the door. He tried not to look at the crowd of students who had briefly stopped their chattering when his name was called, and were just starting to resume in whispers. “Is it really him?” “Harry Potter!” “The Boy Who Lived”. As soon as his eyes found Professor McGonagall again, he kept his gaze fixed on her as he walked up, taking careful strides so his knees didn’t wobble. It was indeed a hat in her hands, but it looked to be in awful shape – battered and torn worse than any of his hand-me-downs from Dudley.

Finally, he got to the stool she had set up, and sat himself carefully upon it, which granted him one brief glance ahead at the crowd before the Sorting Hat slipped down over his eyes and blocked them out again.

One argument with the Sorting Hat later, and Harry found himself a Gryffindor as well, though haunted by the Hat’s words that “you would be great in Slytherin.” He made his way carefully to the Gryffindor table, which was cheering loudly, and found a vacant seat by the older Weasley boys, who all welcomed him heartily.

By the time the evening was done, Harry had borrowed Ron’s Spectralens again and identified the house colors, visible in the banners above each house table, as red, green, yellow, and blue, each with a different pattern repeated in light and dark shades. Gryffindor was red with interlocking diamonds outlined in a paler shade. Slytherin was green triangles alternating in light and dark. Hufflepuff was bright yellow – not at all the same as the grass – with five-pointed stars outlined in a darker yellow that the Spectralens occasionally called gold. Ravenclaw was blue with interlocking circles outlined in a lighter shade, forming a pattern that seemed to shift in Harry's peripheral vision. More importantly, over the course of the evening Dumbledore had made enough announcements, large and small, that there wasn’t too much attention on Harry anymore, and in addition Harry had met a ghost and a poltergeist and talking portraits on his way through the undeniably magical castle. He had friends and magic and colors. The Dursleys would hate every bit of that, and knowing that only made Harry love it more.

The next morning, while Harry was reading his letter from Hagrid, Ron was reading his own letter, which had been delivered by an ancient-looking brown tawny owl who nearly collapsed into Ron’s bacon after dropping the letter in his lap.

“Hagrid’s invited me over for tea,” Harry informed Ron, turning to deliver the news. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ron agreed. “I’ll come. Hey, Mum’s asking if you, the boy we helped to find Platform 9¾, really are Harry Potter. She wants to know because ‘it matters to Ginny’. How much you wanna bet they’ve figured it out too?” _That you’re Ginny’s soulmate_ went unsaid. Ron and Harry were both hesitant to talk about it too publicly. Harry in case they’d guessed wrong, and Ron presumably because his sister was involved but Harry hadn’t had a chance to ask why.

Harry paused from scribbling a reply to Hagrid, and glanced sideways at Ron. “Huh. Probably. Think I should write her a letter?” He would do so if only so he didn’t have to filter his responses through Ron. Although Ron was great, Harry was still wary of talking about soulmates aloud, especially when too many people were around.

“Who? Mum or Ginny?” Ron asked curiously.

“Er, your mum I guess?” Harry decided. “I could say I’m not sure which of you I saw and even though you think it was Ginny, I didn’t want to get her hopes up if I was wrong? And then if I’m not wrong, maybe start writing Ginny and get to know her.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, mum would probably like that.” He grinned, “And then I wouldn’t have to write letters on your behalf.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry teased, also grinning. “You’re trying to get out of extra work and we haven’t even gotten our schedules yet.” He re-read his note to Hagrid ( _I’d be happy to come, and I’m bringing my friend Ron ~ Harry_ ) and sent Hedwig off again.

Ron snorted, but before he could reply, Professor McGonagall arrived to pass out their schedules and give the first years instructions on how to find their first class of the day. They got rather busy after that, with subjects that were entirely new to Harry and plenty of homework to go with it all, but nothing could quench the warm feeling growing in Harry’s chest that he was finally somewhere he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please leave a comment or a review. It'll make me really happy: I'd love to know what everyone thinks.
> 
> Or feel free to ask about anything you found confusing. I know I've replaced a few cultural norms with others in light of how having soulmates be a common thing would affect everyday interactions - like knowing who your soulmate is before you're old enough to consider romance (and I interpret canon!Harry as becoming interested in dating around age 13/14, so definitely not yet in this chapter when he's recently turned 11) - so there's likely a reason for whatever confused you, but I'm not going to claim I've thought of _everything_ , so it's also possible I've just missed something. Either way, feel free to ask. I don't bite.
> 
> Also hey I've separated my writing into a separate blog on tumblr, rather than mixed into everything else on my main, so [come find me on tumblr](https://muggle-writes.tumblr.com) as @muggle-writes - reader interaction helps keep me motivated.


	2. Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry collects more Weasleys' opinions on soulmate bonds, and writes that letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought I had forgotten this fic. Well I haven't, I'm just getting around to updating it on my own, erratic, schedule.
> 
> If the initial chapter of this story hadn't been for a prompt that I promised to get published by a certain time and date, this probably would be part of chapter 1, as I don't think it's a large thematic shift, and it's a tad short to be a standalone chapter. However, since the original has been up for months, I wouldn't want anyone to get confused if I suddenly added 50% more words. to chapter 1, so have a slightly short chapter 2 instead. What will become chapter 3 is also nearly done (or half-done considering how everything I sit down to right seems to wind up longer than I expect it to be) so I hope to get it published in the next week or two.
> 
> Also I recently started on a new antidepressant and I've only been on it for a week, so I can't say for sure, but if my sudden renewed energy to write is any indication, I may be able to update more often again. Let's hope, because I've been missing my stories as much as anyone else probably has.
> 
> As usual, this is not beta'ed because I'm an impatient rascal who can't resist sharing what I've written as soon as I'm done. All mistakes are mine alone

Harry found himself sitting alone in the sparsely populated Gryffindor common room after all his classes were done for the day, with some free time before dinner. Ron had challenged Neville to a game of wizard’s chess, and was coaxing him through getting the pieces to trust him. None of the other first-years were in the room. Most were probably outside, enjoying the sunshine. The only other people who were in the common room were a couple of seventh years at a table in the corner, who had three books open on the table between the two of them, apparently working on an essay, one of whom was already tugging at her hair in stress, and the Weasley twins and their friend Lee, who were laughing together at something, sitting on a couch by the fireplace.

Harry considered briefly. Ron seemed confident that Ginny was his soulmate, but Harry wanted to at least talk to each Weasley about the possibility before ruling them out. He didn’t intend to do homework until after dinner, and Ron had given him space to write the letter to Mrs. Weasley, but that could probably wait ten minutes.

Making up his mind, Harry rolled up his blank parchment and tucked it in his bag. He approached the couch tentatively. None of the Weasleys had yet been unfriendly, but he wasn’t used to starting conversations with personal questions.

Fred glanced up as Harry approached. “Hey there, Harry. How was your first day?” he asked cheerfully.

“It was amazing,” Harry admitted, grinning. “I can already tell I’m going to like Charms and Transfiguration. Not sure about Potions, though. Snape really seems to hate me.”

“Snape only likes Slytherins, and them only sometimes,” George agreed from the other end of the couch. “And McGonagall’s strict, but she’s a really good teacher.”

Harry nodded. He’d figured that out for himself within the first fifteen minutes of class.

“So what else is up? Don’t tell me you need help with your homework already,” Fred teased.

“No. Er,” Harry stammered. “So I know this is a personal question, but have either of you found your soulmates yet?” He took a breath, but no one interrupted him, not even to answer. “It’s just… I saw the five of you all at once at King’s Cross, so I’m not sure who my soulmate is other than ‘probably one of the Weasleys.’”

A nearly-indiscernible tension came and went while Harry was speaking, and Fred and George shared a brief glance over Lee’s head. Lee just smirked at Harry, ignoring the twins. “Sorry, Harry. I’ve got a claim to George, and Fred’s matched with Angelina.” He threw an arm around George’s shoulders in emphasis, with far more force than necessary.

“It’s true,” George agreed, laughing as Lee knocked him sideways. “Honestly, since neither Bill nor Charlie were there yesterday, if it was one of our siblings? It would have been Ron or Ginny. Have you talked to Ron yet?”

“I have, but he just said he met his soulmate on the train and that I would be a better soulmate than whoever he’s got,” Harry answered, still a bit confused at that. This time, all three of the boys on the couch shared an amused look.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Fred decided. “People don’t always get on with their soulmate right away, and,” George interrupted by coughing something that sounded suspiciously like ‘wood’* which caused Lee to choke on his own muffled laugh. Harry wasn’t quite sure what that meant. “ _And_ Ron has time to accept them, whoever they are,” Fred finished firmly and a little too loud, the repeated twitching of his lips suggesting that most of his willpower was being directed into not responding to whatever George had said.

“Or he won’t and he’ll settle down with someone else that he doesn’t hate,” George suggested, sounding suddenly serious.

“Is that a thing?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. He knew the Dursleys didn’t believe in soulmates, but all the references he’d ever heard to soulmates made them sound like romantic partners. Well, all the references he’d heard except for Ron’s vague comment on the train that sometimes soulmates were just destined to be your best friend. Maybe it was another difference between Wizarding culture and Muggle culture?

“It is most definitely a thing,” George answered, levity creeping back into his tone. “Most people would tell you that the crowdbound are out of luck, unless their soulmate recognized them and finds them later, but that shouldn’t stop them from living happy lives, don’t you think?” As George spoke, on the other end of the couch, Fred made an exaggeratedly sad expression at the phrase ‘out of luck’, which was replaced with an equally-exaggerated happy expression at the words ‘happy lives’. George managed to be straight-faced despite the fact that Harry was sure he could see the accompanying hand gestures.

“Er, I guess I hadn’t thought about it,” Harry admitted. It did make sense that even if you couldn’t identify your soulmate, you weren’t doomed to a terrible life. Muggle fairy stories painted soulmates as a sure path to a happy ending, but that couldn’t be the _only_ path to a happy ending.

Fred must have seen the understanding dawning on Harry’s face. “See, you’ll be fine,” he assured Harry with a grin. “Both you and our brother, and that’s whether or not you know or like your soulmates.”

With that surprisingly final declaration, Lee seemed to decide the conversation was done. “So, Harry. Do you want to see my new tarantula?”

Harry didn’t know what else he would have said about soulmates, as he was still trying to figure out his own feelings on the topic, so he accepted the change of subject gracefully. “Sure!” he agreed cheerfully. Ron hadn’t wanted to see it on the train, but Harry had never minded spiders. When he and Dudley had just started school, he had named all the spiders in his cupboard, liking to pretend they were his friends. Real friends, that wouldn’t ever decide to go Harry Hunting. He had protected the spiders from Aunt Petunia’s cleaning sprees, and they had protected him from loneliness.

Lee grinned widely, and jumped up, running up the stairs to the boys’ dorms. He returned a few minutes later, at a regular pace, carefully holding a small glass terrarium with the promised tarantula inside.

“This is Buff,” Lee said, clearly pleased with Harry’s continuing enthusiasm. “Would you like to hold him?”

Harry considered for a moment before agreeing. Tarantulas weren’t venomous or aggressive as far as Harry knew, so even though they were bigger than his first friends, it should be fine. Lee unlatched the top panel and swung it open before sticking his hand inside to reach the spider. Harry frowned when Lee’s arm seemed to disappear into the terrarium, not visible inside even though Buff was still poking around at the sand he was standing on. Lee realized his concern before Harry could say anything. “Oh, this is charmed so the outside is small enough to carry, but that the spider inside is always visible. The inside is actually much bigger. Did you think I would leave poor Buff in there all alone with nowhere to go and no enrichment?”

Harry shook his head, feeling embarrassed that he had briefly assumed the older boy was treating his spider poorly. He was also surprisingly glad that Buff wasn’t locked up with nothing to play with and nowhere to go. Spiders, like Harry’s old friends, shouldn’t have to deal with that**. Reassured, Harry watched in amusement as Lee’s hand finally appeared through the glass sides, seeming to be near the top despite his arm being inside almost to the elbow. His hand came down a few inches to the side of the spider, and settled, palm up like a platform. “You can’t come straight down at Buff or he’ll think you’re a bird trying to eat him,” Lee explained, as Buff walked onto his hand. As the spider moved, Harry realized that Buff always appeared to be in the center of the container, so Lee’s hand seemed to be moving towards the spider despite his shoulder and the sand underneath his hand remaining perfectly still. At the same time, a rock, three times as big as Buff himself, slid into view from the direction Buff appeared to be walking, moving at the same speed as Lee’s hand. It gave Harry a weird, dizzy feeling to watch. But soon enough, Lee’s hand was outside of the terrarium again, looking properly connected to his arm, with Buff still riding docilely on his palm.

“Okay Harry. Hands together, palms up,” Lee instructed. Fred hopped up to the arm of the sofa, gesturing at Harry to take his former spot, and George demonstrated what Lee was instructing, cupping his hands together. Harry obediently sat down, cupping his hands carefully, and Lee gently deposited Buff in his hands. Harry giggled as the spider explored his hands, the tiny hairs tickling his skin.

Ron walked up with a triumphant grin, as he’d evidently won his chess game. “Hey, Harry,” he started. “It’s almost time for…” Ron finally noticed the spider in Harry’s hands, and went very pale, but he recovered admirably quickly. “For dinner,” he finished, sounding only a little tense, in contrast with all of his body language. “Would you like to walk together?”  
Harry agreed, and hurriedly handed Buff back to Lee, who put the spider back in his terrarium, and headed towards the stairs again, evidently to put it away. Harry noticed that George and Fred were avoiding eye contact with Harry, Ron, and each other. He wondered if there was a story there.

After dinner, Harry settled in a reasonably comfortable chair in the corner of the common room to do his homework. Or, really, to finally write that letter.

_Dear Mrs. Weasley,_

_I would like to ask about your family._

No, that was entirely too blunt. He folded and carefully tore the top part of the parchment off so he could start the letter without having lines crossed off above it. It was harder to tear than notebook paper was, and despite his best efforts, the top wound up ragged, and he frowned at it as he crumpled the top portion. Resolving to clean up the edges with his potions knife which ought to cut it cleanly, he started again.

_Dear Mrs. Weasley,_

_My name is Harry Potter._

That was even worse. He was already sick of how people would judge him immediately when all they knew about him was his name. He would sign his letter, but he certainly wouldn’t start with that.

Six drafts later, he was satisfied with his trimmed and ink-spotted letter (writing with a quill was surprisingly hard). He got directions to the owlery from Percy, along with a warning which he ignored about how going there right now would probably leave him out of the common room after curfew. Well, he didn’t _really_ ignore the warning; he ran all the way to the owlery. By the time he came to the top of the stairs, bursting a room with large gaps where windows should be and dozens of perches for owls, about half of them full, Harry’s legs were burning. Even though he had gotten very fast due to his involuntary participation in Harry Hunting, that game had never involved a castle’s worth of stairs.

Hedwig was fortunately very easy to find, since her beautiful white feathers were bright against the gray castle stone behind her perch. He held out the envelope hastily addressed to _Mrs. Weasley, The Burrow_. “Hey girl,” he greeted, “can you deliver this for me?”

Hedwig nipped his finger in response, and puffed up her feathers importantly, as though to say _do you really doubt me?_ Harry smiled at her continuing attitude as she took the envelope from his hands – if he’d let go a moment later, he probably would have gotten quite a papercut – and watched as she flapped silently out the window and off towards the horizon.

A moment later, he shook himself and ran as fast as he could back to Gryffindor tower. He didn’t want to face Percy’s stuffy scolding about how he’d told him so, if Harry showed up even a minute after curfew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Oliver has no canon pairing as far as I remember, and someone recently got me hooked on Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint as a rivals-to-reluctant-soulmates-to-enthusiastic-soulmates pair in a different AU and while I’m sticking to canon pairings for the most part, I couldn’t _not_ work that in here. Especially since, with the way soulmates work in my au, nearly everyone has at least one person they’re compatible with. and the first such person you meet is interpreted as your soulmate, but only someone really sensitive to magic and hidden things, like Luna, would even notice when their world gained the slightest bit more depth of color as they meet other compatible potential partners.  
>  And yes, this means there can be “one-sided” soulmate bonds where a compatible pair meets, when one of them already knows their (assumed-only) soulmate and the other had not yet met any. It’s a not-uncommon form of drama, considering people assume that the newer partner is making up their bond, but it doesn’t happen often enough for the masses to realize that the “troublemakers” weren’t making it up.  
> ....you know, in case you wanted details that none of the characters will quite figure out in their entirety. (don't worry, there's plenty of related details that _will_ come up)
> 
> **children should also not have to deal with that


End file.
